


Would you come if I called?

by slutty_shouto



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Angst, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I'm Bad At Tagging, Idiots in Love, M/M, Post-Canon, Volleyball Dorks in Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:13:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27026398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slutty_shouto/pseuds/slutty_shouto
Summary: atsumu is in love, but he learns that not all romances end in a happily ever after.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 6
Kudos: 21





	Would you come if I called?

Atsumu wakes up with love bites and hickeys, feeling sore in places he knew he shouldn't be. His body aches and it's supposed to be a good feeling, a reminder of the night before. He frowns, an unsettling feeling dawning upon him. Atsumu never went out, not since... 

He sighed and rubbed his eyes tiredly. Maybe he would hit the whiskey today. Atsumu stands before his legs give out he beneath him. He winces at the impact of the cold hard floor against his back.

"Fuck." The curse echoes in the room. Before he even realizes it, Atusmu's waiting for Omi to pop his head in and snap at him for cursing. 

The room stays silent. Omi never comes in. 

Atsumu feels the tears prickling at his eyes, his nose scrunches up. How many days has it been again? Time felt slower than ever nowadays. He scrubs at salty droplets flowing down his face and laughs. He laughs because Omi always told him he looked ugly crying. Omi would probably hate this, he thinks. 

_He probably hates me._

Atusmu stays on the floor, his ceiling light suddenly glaringly bright in his eyes. "Fuck. Fuck! "

His head is pounding and he hurts everywhere. He refuses to believe it, but all the signs are there. He had let someone into his bed. _His_ bed, where he and Omi had slept, where they had played games and hugged and ate and even though Omi kept telling him off for getting crumbs all over the place he never made Atsumu stop because they were in love. And Atsumu had just defiled that place, invited a stranger into his bed like those memories had meant nothing to him. 

"Who..." he breathes. "Who the hell fucked me??" 

_It's not like that,_ he wants to scream. _I still love you._ But Omi is gone gone _gone_ and he's not coming back ever. Atsumu is crying now, the tears pouring down his face as he remembers. The annoying smell of bleach that was uniquely Omi, his rare smile and his gorgeous laugh. The riceballs Samu had sent over that were their last meal together. His chests is heaving and he shakes with every breath he takes. He misses him. Atsumu misses him so much. "Please Omi... come back... I can't live without you...."

His vision blurs with tears and he feels around the floor for the beer bottles he knows litter the floor. He picks the nearest one up and knocks it back, expecting lukewarm alcohol to flow down his throat and intoxicate him, make him forget, make everything good and fine and Omi is here again, he's here and good and _alive_ and that's what matters. 

He hiccups and his shirt is drenched, his chest is racked with sobs but he doesn't care, he waits eagerly for the beer to fix everything but it doesn't.

It's empty. 

"FUUUUCK!!" The bottle hits the wall and shatters on impact, shards of glass fly around the room, and maybe Atsumu gets cut by stray pieces but he can't feel the pain. He runs his hands through his hair and he's out of his mind, just like Omi had said, had screamed at him before taking the car and driving away, and maybe he was right. Maybe Atsumu was crazy. But that shouldn't have mattered, should it? They were in love, and it was beautiful. 

Light touches, warm hugs and someone to cry on and laugh with. Movie dates and thoughts of "oh, Omi would love that." Cuddles at night and declarations of love. Sharing ice-cream even when it's cold and Omi would scold him for being greedy but still share it with him. And the best was when Omi's face would heave above him, their bodies moving together, Omi panting and flushed but still as pretty as ever. Five simple words, but it felt like he had been given the world. 

_"I love you, Atsumu Miya."_

_"I love you, Sakusa Kiyoomi."_

There's a chuckle, then, "You bastard." Atsumu's head snaps up, he looks around frantically for the source of the words. His voice is shaky but he manages to squeeze out the words. 

"Omi-kun? "

It's stupid, there's no reason for him to be here, for his Omi, to be in the room they used to sleep in, the house they used to live in _together._ No reason for the smell of bleach, no reason for familiar fingers on soft skin. But he's here. Atsumu knows, he can feel it in his bones, the way he used to ache whenever he looked at Omi, from before they knew about the other's feelings. 

From the way his heart fluttered, the way it was screaming at him, _this is him._ Him, the man Atsumu had fallen in love with when they were just eleven and practicing their receives, and Atsumu had fallen over and all Omi had done was dust the sand off him. The moment he felt calloused fingers skimming his thigh Atusmu knew he was done for. The sun was too bright and the sky was too blue but it was beautiful. Black hair and black eyes staring into brown ones, face creased with worry and murmurs of childish innocence, "are you okay?"

And Atsumu wishes he could tell his heart to quiet down, to stop beating so fast (or at all) because his fiancé died three weeks ago, a car crash in a storm. A single blazing fire that was mellowed by the rain, skid marks stark against the cold tar road and all Atsumu could think was how his Omi's hair was the same colour as the marks. About how maybe if he hadn't been so distant, prioritizing volleyball over his soon-to-be husband, maybe the love of his life wouldn't be dead. 

Maybe they would be happy, maybe Atsumu could have been sitting in Omi's lap right about now, feeding him onigiri without having to feel like he's slowly suffocating, like his lungs are being squeezed and his heart being torn out, like he's bleeding from everywhere and nowhere. He doesn't remember anymore, what it was like to think of Omi and smile, to laugh so hard his face hurt. And Atsumu _knows._ He knows that physically, scientifically, there should be no way, no way _at all_ , that Omi would be alive. The doctor's words ring in his ears like a broken record, it has ever since the first time he heard it, like something out of his worst nightmare but _worse,_ because he never would have thought that it was possible for _anyone_ to separate them. 

_"Good evening, is this Mr Miya?"_

_"Mr Sakusa. I'm getting married next weekend."_

_"Mr Miya, we are calling to inform you that the body of a Sakusa Kiyoomi has been found. Although we have already matched the dental records, we would appreciate it if you could come down to identify the body."_

_"... what? "_

_"I'm sorry for your loss, Mr Miya."_

How could he ever forget, when it was those words that had shattered his life like the bottle he had flung just moments ago? 

He knows there's no way, but how can he explain that he feels something brush against his forehead, just like how Omi used to kiss him when he was nervous before a game, or that time when Samu had told him he was going to quit volleyball to start a diner? He feels the tears return, and he chokes on the words he so carefully prepared, apologies he was so determined to convey if maybe Omi hadn't died that night, if maybe he remembers Atusmu and comes back. 

They don't come out. 

Instead, he laughs. Bitter, nothing like laughter before. But nothing's really the same since Omi left, is it? "So. " he spits. "I really am going crazy. Why're you here? Come to gloat? " 

It's strange, talking to no one, but undeniably, someone is there. A hand brushes his face, and he can't resist leaning into the touch. "Sumu... I really miss you. But you can't live like this. I wish we hadn't fought that day. Maybe you would have been able to get on with life if you didnt have that goddamned it's-always-my-fault mentality. I love you." Then he's caressing the bites, the marks and scars. "Look at you, Samu. You didn't go out yesterday, did you? I know you'd never cheat on me. I'm sure you're already aware of who left these marks, aren't you? "

And it's nothing new, but Atsumu doesn't stay angry. He can't, and never could. He is quiet, perhaps for the first time in his life. "Is it... really you? " It's just a whisper, but with it, Atsumu lets himself hope, of a happy ending where maybe they can end up together. After all, Omi did say he still loved him. And if he couldn't even hold himself back when he first saw Atsumu then... maybe they still had a chance. 

He feels kisses, against his collarbone, then at his neck. "Sumu... I'm sorry. Let me make it up to you. I'm sorry." He gasps and pushes feebly at the insistent hands, the weight of Omi against his body. "N-no.. wait.. We have to- ngh! Why are you sorry? " Pressure against his forehead, and he knows Omi's resting his against Atusmu's. "For dying." The words are soft but Atsumu knows they are the ones he has undeniably been waiting for. It's stupid, really, wanting an apology from someone for dying, but the moment Atsumu hears it, he can't stop himself from feeling happy. He's an unreasonable prick, a total jerk, but he's in love and Omi loves him back. For the third time in a day, he feels tears pool in his eyes and he wraps his arms around Omi's back and squeezes as tight as he can. 

"I wish I could see you. " Atsumu grumbles in his ear. He knows that he's taking this for granted, his lover just came back from the dead for fuck's sake, and here he is demanding to look at him. But today must be a good day, because the air shifts and he _sees_. He sees Sakusa Kiyoomi, with his ebony hair, silky and fluffy, the texture memorized by the sheer number of times Atsumu has ran his hands through it. Sakusa Kiyoomi, with his raven eyes, cold and calculating to others but warm and loving for him and him alone. And it strikes him, suddenly, that he loves this man. It's nothing new to him, he knows he's been in love with Omi for the longest time, but all of a sudden he knows exactly what he loves so much about him. And that's him. Simply no one else would do because they would never be Sakusa Kiyoomi. 

The face in front of him is flushed, tip of his ears pink. "You gonna just keep staring at me? " And Atsumu grins. His heart flips as he holds eye contact with the only person for him.

"Yes. I am."

**Author's Note:**

> y'all are lucky I was feeling nice and didn't make it too sad ;) but jokes aside I can't handle angst so ehh-
> 
> my friend (unhelpfully) told me that I should write smut so that might come soon. if you're here from twitter than great! How'd you like it? I'd love feedback babes <3


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